


Seems Tabloids Are Good For Something

by HigherMagic



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-20 06:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/pseuds/HigherMagic
Summary: Nigel is a celebrity and the tabloids run wild when he starts spending time with Adam. During an interview he gets a little too candid and Adam, of course, wants clarification.





	Seems Tabloids Are Good For Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishxallxgood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/gifts).



> Now that I've seen 'Adam' too (and absolutely fallen in love with him omg my sweet space boy I LOVE HIM) here's my first attempt at SpaceDogs! Hope you guys like it :D

"Nigel?"

"What is it, gorgeous?"

"Could you explain something to me?"

Nigel hums, finishing his cigarette – he's been trying to cut back, for Adam's sake, but he hasn't been able to cut the cord and stop himself having that first sweet drag in the morning. It's like denying himself morning coffee. Coffee which he finds pressed into his hands as he stubs out the end and steps back through the sliding glass door, into the sectioned brownstone Adam calls home. The mug is warm to the touch and he smiles, seeing it's one of Adam's favorites – the one that is all black but, when exposed to heat, reveals a little spaceship headed to the moon.

He takes a drink, wincing at the heat of the coffee, and lets his eyes rest on Adam's sweet smile, his glacially bright eyes as he tilts his head, waiting for Nigel's response.

"What do you need explaining?" he asks.

Adam smiles, that off-kilter, sweet one he has where one corner of his mouth quirks up a little higher than the other, showing the straight set of his teeth. He turns away, and walks to Nigel's tablet, which sits on the little coffee table by the porch door.

Adam takes it with both hands, long fingers splaying wide, with the utmost gentleness, like he's afraid of dropping it. He unlocks it and turns it, and Nigel winces internally, seeing the familiar flashy header of one of the more notoriously invasive tabloids spread across the page.

"Honestly, darling, why do you read this shit?" he asks, setting his coffee down and taking it.

Adam lifts one shoulder, his expression open and guileless. His lips twitch in another smile. "Curiosity?" he says, and Nigel huffs, rolling his eyes. Adam is so fucking sweet, even when he's being a little shit, like now. His eyes, bright and shining – they fucking _sparkle,_ come on, how is that fair? – drop to the tablet, and he nods, silently asking Nigel to read it.

Nigel does, and blanches when he comes across the source of Adam's curiosity. "Fuck," he mutters, rubbing his hand over his mouth, and lets the tablet drop in limp hands.

"I'm intrigued about the logistics of 'wanting to die by eating out Adam's sweet ass'," Adam says, without any inflection. "These tabloids must have terrible reporters – I know you use quite foul language, but that seems like a lot."

"It was a stupid fucking thing to say," Nigel growls, throwing the tablet onto the couch. Adam watches it arc, brow creasing. He bites his lower lip, tilts his chin, sets his teeth together again. His fingers twitch by his sides.

"So…you did say it?" he asks.

Nigel huffs, itching for another cigarette. He takes his coffee in hand instead, taking another deep swallow despite the fact that it's still burning hot. "Maybe," he admits. He's never been shy about anything in his life, but Adam makes him feel…not shy. Not exactly dirty, either, but give him a Goddamn break – how can anyone be around Adam for more than five seconds and not want to make themselves better? Want to make him smile?

And they hadn't exactly gotten off to the best start. One of those upscale soirees to promote Nigel's newest business launch, Adam had been there (though for the life of him, Nigel couldn't figure out why) and of course Nigel, being Nigel, had spent most of the evening drunkenly slurring to Darko that he'd never seen a more gorgeous creature in his life. Cut to the end of the night, a drugged and bound Adam found moaning weakly in the trunk of his car – well, shit, Nigel is still working on the cocksucking piece of limp-dicked piss that had done that to him.

But Adam had taken it with grace, accepting Nigel's offer of a bed (the _guest_ bed, of course, he wasn't that kind of animal) and warm clothes, and a hearty breakfast in apology. Of course, if Nigel stood even a chance of letting this wild night be the last of his burgeoning affection for Adam, that was all torn to shit after their first conversation. Adam is beautiful, so delightfully charming and guileless, open and accepting of Nigel's rough mouth and shameless praise. Nigel doesn't remember the last time he'd smiled so much, listening to Adam's excited chatter about different chemical compounds in alcohol and sedatives, their effects on the human body and psyche. He could have sat for hours, listening to Adam talk, watching his hands twitch and gesture in flurries of flustered movements, the little rock he did in his seat whenever he thought of some new tidbit or fun fact he wanted to share.

It had been enough for the tabloids to run wild, just one picture of Nigel squeezing Adam's shoulder, one flash of Adam's sweet, off-angle smile as they'd parted ways with a promise (a plea, on Nigel's part) to keep in touch, and, well.

They're friends, now, good friends, Nigel would say. He spends most of his free time in Adam's house, listening to his excited talk about stars and solar flares and galaxies. Adam is beautiful when he's excited.

"Nigel?" Adam prompts, sounding unsure, and Nigel closes his eyes, sighing heavily. "Are you alright?"

"Sorry, gorgeous," he replies, suddenly so tired. He goes to the table and sits down, cradling his coffee in both hands. Adam follows, like he's being tugged by a tether, and sits opposite him. "Got lost in thought, there."

"Thoughts about dying while eating my ass?" Adam asks, with a single, slow blink. Nigel winces and Adam's head tilts. "I can't imagine that's pleasant."

"Christ, just let it fucking go," Nigel snaps. Adam's brow creases, and he worries his lower lip, looking down at his folded hands.

"You're…angry," he says, that same unsureness that comes to his voice whenever he tries to dissect emotion. His eyes lift. "At me?"

"No, darling, I could never be angry with you."

Adam grins at him, Nigel's sharp words forgotten. "I'm sure that's not true," he says brightly. "But if you're having suicidal thoughts -."

"No, no." Nigel lifts his hand. "It's just…wishful thinking."

Adam tilts his head again, fingers flexing and tapping an off-beat rhythm against his opposite knuckles. He presses his lips together. "What does that mean?"

Nigel sighs. "Nothing, gorgeous."

Adam's eyes flash, darkening like a cloud passing through the sky, and he sighs, looking down again. "I don't like it when you say things like that," he says, too-careful. His knuckles turn white. "It feels like you're lying to me."

Nigel winces. He supposes there's no getting out of this conversation. "Look, you know when you start talking about space and shit? You get all excited, and just want to keep talking and talking?" Adam's eyes brighten again, and he nods, his smile wide. "Well, I get that way about you. And it makes me say some real fucking dumbass shit."

"Like how you want to die eating my ass," Adam replies.

Wow, he's really not going to let that go. Nigel will never live this down. He flushes, and clears his throat. "Not just that," he says, swirling the last of his coffee around the mug. It's getting colder, now, the black returning to the upper rim. "Just, how wonderful you are, how fucking gorgeous you are, how I want to be your boyfriend and how you're so smart and brilliant and -."

He stops.

Adam hums, lifting his hands, cradling his chin, his elbows on the table. "Well," he says, tone soft and practical as always; "If that's the case, we should definitely talk about it. Beth says it's good to talk about your feelings."

Nigel hums, and finishes his coffee, setting the mug down with a sigh.

"Would you like to have sex with me, Nigel?"

He chokes, glad Adam at least had the decency to wait until he swallowed. His eyes, wide, meet Adam's, find them bright and shining like they always do. In the morning light, he looks lovely, the pale arch of his neck exposed by his loose-fitting t-shirt, his forearms bare, his pink lips spread in a smile. Nigel would dare anyone to look at him like this and not instantly fall in love.

He clears his throat, and rasps, "Yes."

Adam's smile widens, full, his cheeks dimpling. "I think I would enjoy it," he says primly, tapping his fingers against his knuckles again. "But I don't want you to die. I think sex is much better when both parties remain alive at the end of it."

Nigel laughs, the tight knot of tension unraveling in his chest very suddenly in the wake of Adam's words.

"And I don't think eating my ass is very practical," Adam continues, soft with thought. His eyes lift, to the corner of the room, and he presses his lips together, brows creasing. "Cannibalism is frowned upon in most societies, and it doesn't seem sustainable or very pleasurable, at least from my perspective."

Nigel huffs another laugh, wiping his mouth with his hand. "It's metaphorical, darling," he says. Adam lifts a brow, his bright gaze returning.

"Oh," he says, and looks down. He bites his lower lip, a soft tremor running down his arms. At the end of the table, Nigel sees his knees twitch, pressing together. He breathes out, and raises his eyes again. Sucks in another breath. "I'd like to kiss you now, if that's alright."

Nigel is on his feet before he even thinks about it. "More than alright," he growls, and tugs Adam by his closed fists, to his feet. He touches Adam's jaw, that lovely strong jaw that's been driving him mad with thoughts of kissing it, of sucking pink marks to Adam's exposed neck. His other hand slides into Adam's hair, those gorgeous dark curls just begging for a hand in them. Adam shivers, pupils flaring out to swallow up the blue in his eyes, and he lifts his chin in readiness.

Nigel leans in, he doesn't think he's been this excited for anything in his life. Adam accepts his kiss with a soft sigh, parting his lips when Nigel's tongue presses to them, reactive and passive for now. Nigel flattens his free hand on Adam's hip, tugging him close, pleased to feel Adam's heat against him, the warm expanse of his chest, the subtle press of his cock as Nigel tugs his thigh between his own, giving him something to grind against.

Adam's fingers twitch, cling at Nigel's shirt. His head tilts and he lets out a sweet, breathless sound, and he tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he's so sweet, so utterly beautiful. When Nigel pulls back, Adam's cheeks are flushed a delicate pink, his lips darker, bruised from Nigel's teeth. He smiles, lashes low over his eyes, and huffs.

"You need to brush your teeth," he says, patting Nigel's chest reassuringly. "I can taste your cigarettes."

"I'll fucking quit," Nigel breathes. If the reward is kissing Adam, he'll never touch another one for his whole Goddamn life.

Adam grins. He shivers. "Are you excited right now, Nigel?" he asks.

Nigel growls, tugging gently at Adam's hair, and wonders how Adam can even ask that, for surely he feels the thrum of Nigel's heart underneath his hands, feels Nigel's cock pressed tight to his hip. "Yes, darling," he says instead, and leans down to kiss Adam's flushed cheek, over that strong, lovely jaw that's haunted his dreams for weeks now. "Very excited."

Adam hums, the sound very pleased. "I can help with that," he says, unconsciously coy, flirty. Nigel might actually die if Adam keeps looking at him like that, with his blackened eyes and red mouth. He pats Nigel again and pulls away from him. "But you must brush your teeth, first. I'll see you in the bedroom."

Nigel nods, breathless, wide-eyed, as Adam collects his coffee mug and takes it to the kitchen to wash. Nigel has outrun police, chased down pissants who owe him money, even tried to catch a Goddamn car on foot, but he doesn't think he's ever moved as fast as he does, sprinting to the bathroom to brush his teeth until he's sure every trace of his last cigarette is gone.


End file.
